


Secret Lover

by pendragonfics



Category: DC Extended Universe
Genre: Daily Planet, F/M, Female Reader, M/M, Reporter Reader, Secret Relationship, male reader - Freeform, no pronouns for reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: It's just another day working for the Daily Planet until you're face-to-face withtheSuperman...
Relationships: Clark Kent/Reader, Superman/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Secret Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by a Tumblr user

According to the movies, it was easy to live in a romantic-comedy bubble. But no matter how hard you tried to live in a cringe Hallmark knockoff movie, there was no magic in your life. It was supposed to be great, as soon as you moved to Metropolis; but then again, you were a romantic at heart. You were just a food blogger freelancing for the Daily Planet. It was going to get better than taking photos of cupcakes and artesian cheese boards. It had to.

“Order for…?” the barista called out, frowning at the scribble. “I can’t read–” 

Glancing from your phone, you recognise your order in their hand. Pushing to the front, you grab your coffee. It was unusually packed in the café, and glad for your mask, you leave the café. It’s been some time since your first debut after lockdown, and yet, you still feel some awkwardness around crowds. Luckily the streets are less filled at this hour, so the walk to work isn’t as intense. 

But just as you make it into the lobby, you’re bombarded by the new intern. Jerry? Jarod? Whatever his name is, he’s distraught. 

“I can’t believe my luck, you’re here,” he babbles. “I was going to pass out.”

Barely looking to him, you take a sip of your drink. As both of you enter the elevator, he goes on, but most of it is incomprehensible and confusing. “Slow down, kid.” You eye him, not jealous of whatever has made him get to this emotional state before nine in the morning. “One word at a time.”

“Channel three hundred have a news crew upstairs,” he leans against the elevator wall, out of breath. “The usual execs have food poisoning, and Ms Lane is in Illinois–” he explains. 

“–What about Kent?” you blink. 

“He was going to,” the intern explained miserably, “But then he ran off.” 

You roll your eyes, and down the rest of your drink in a matter of seconds. The lights above the door flicker closer and closer to the top floor and you brace yourself. “Well. Hopefully, I get the promotion after this.” 

The doors open, and you pass the intern your empty cup. The news crew are in the glass office walls of the meeting room, and to your surprise, there’s someone other than the semi-famous news anchor John Robbins in there; he’s unmistakable, an iconic face around the city of Metropolis, and currently, stands half-hidden behind someone you don’t recognise. But as soon as you falter, you straighten your shoulders and enter the room. 

“You must be the food and culture writer,” John beamed. “___________?” 

“Yes,” you looked between John and the guest in the room. Clearing your throat, you felt your face grow hot, and you corrected his assumption, “…I’m actually just a food writer, mostly freelance.” You glanced once more to the guest. “It’s surreal. I’m in a room with the Superman,” you smile.

“It’s good to finally meet the person behind the article,” he holds his hand to yours to shake. You blink. Wiping your palm on your pants before touching his, you notice his grip is firm, and cool to the touch. You’re focused on the sensations that when you realise that he’s still talking, you’ve missed half of what he’s been saying “–I liked your article about the artesian gelato.”

“That’s – thank you.”

You glance to the side and catch sight of the intern through the glass walls. He stands there, phone facing you. It’s when the flash goes off, you feel your face heat up again. But before you can move to him to cut it off, John starts blocking for the report. 

“We go live in three, two…” the camerawoman announced, putting a finger down until the anchor started speaking. 

“Good morning, Metropolis! I’m John Robbins, coming to you live from the Daily Planet headquarters where I have journalist _________ ___________ and the blue boy scout himself, Superman with me! It’s not every day the little person can say they were a part of a city-wide effort to reduce crime. Two weeks ago, _________’s article on the seemingly innocuous Parisian restaurant in downtown Metropolis led to the raid carried out earlier today by a joint effort of both Gotham and Metropolis police to rid the city of the underground crime family.” 

The microphone moved from his hand to before your face. “So, _________? What do you think of the events, in relation to the Daily Planet?” 

You put on your best smile. “Only good things. As the oldest reliable analogue news source to Metropolis, here at the Daily Planet we only tell the news as it breaks and chases the truth as far as it takes.” 

“And thanks to your own article, Superman was able to take down the operation. Did you know of this illegal behaviour going on behind the restaurant’s doors? Or was this a fluke?” 

“I don’t believe that _________ here knew of the illicit goings-on,” Superman answered, turning to John. “After all, they are a stellar reporter, however, that hard work clearly goes into their reviews on the restaurant scene of the city, not crime.” Superman gave a winning smile, his white teeth brighter than a doctored image for dentistry. “The breakthrough they made goes back to the lack of an interview with the sous-chef, which left them a lack of an alibi.”

“Well, there you have it, folks, straight from the mouth of our very own Superman!” the news anchor beamed, looking into the camera. I’m John Robbins, live from the Daily Planet. Now, back to you in the studio, Margot!” 

As soon as the light stopped flashing on the camera, you turned to Superman, somewhat unsure of yourself; what to say, what to do with your hands. You bite your lip, but just before you went to leave the meeting room, you turn to John. He’s being dusted off with a powder puff by someone, and as his eyes are closed, you fold your arms. 

“Robbins,” you smile, as sweetly as you can. Eyes still closed; you see a smug little smile on his face. But it was going to be wiped off soon enough, “The next time you accuse me of working for a Gotham mafioso ring on live television, I’ll leak your Themyscira-themed leather fetish Instagram.”

You didn’t stay to watch him pale.

* * *

Later that night, back at your apartment, you stand on the balcony holding a mug of tea. It’s not snowing yet, but despite the chill, it was a pleasant evening; you were apparently trending on Twitter under #HUMBLEBRAG, with some photos of your face cropped by teens on posted to humour blogs. Your fifteen minutes of fame was fleeting, sure, but you’d never get the look of shock on that hubris-filled man from your memory. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You peer down the fire escape, to see Clark. He’s not exactly climbing the emergency stairs but flying slow enough to appear so. He’s still in his suit, like earlier, but now, he’s got an ugly holiday sweater covering his signature S. 

“You own half the lease,” you smile, over your mug. “Be my guest.” 

He clears his throat. “You mean Clark Kent owns the other half, not Superman,” he says, quietly, climbing over the railing. 

You roll your eyes. “I still can’t believe your disguise is a pair of cheap specs.” You lean toward Clark and leave a kiss on his cheek. “And that I have to pretend I don’t know you every time you take them off.” 

“What do you mean?” Clark slides the glasses down his nose and up a few times as if he’s readjusting the frames. “I’m perfectly hidden.” 

“So am I,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose. “Can’t believe I’m Superman’s secret lover.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
